


If I Can Live Through This

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Every Color Illuminates (Spectrum Adjacent) [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Beyond canon-typical violence, Gen, Lots of conversations, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: There are some problems Shiro can't go to the team for, for a variety of reasons.But for those times, there's Sam and Matt.A direct sequel to Beast You've Made of Me





	If I Can Live Through This

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not read the Spectrum series, this will make no sense to you. Go do that.

Rolling the flash drive over in his fingers, Shiro took a deep breath. His stomach rolled as he stared at the sleek metal door in front of him.

Sam had said many times over that Shiro could come to him whenever he needed help. For anything - nightmares to command decisions to an afternoon chat.

It wasn’t in Shiro’s nature to take Sam up on his offers, especially when their scheduled talks took up so much of Sam’s time. Despite that, Shiro was learning to reach out anyway. He’d been shown time and again that holding his problems all in until they burnt through his chest was not a solution. It was hiding. It was hurting him.

This was the first real test of asking for help.

But Shiro was stalled out.

Shoving the drive into his pocket, Shiro started to pace back and forth. Sam and Matt’s quarters were slightly farther back into the castle from the paladin’s hall, in what Coran had called the guest wing. Sam retired earlier than Matt, who was probably still poking at some project or another in Hunk and Pidge’s shared lab. So Shiro’s presence wasn’t likely to be noticed.

He still felt silly, nearly tearing his hair out in an empty hallway. Over some files.

Even if those files were terrifying him.

Even if those files had all the footage from his gladiator fights.

Until 25 minutes ago, there had been locks in place over them. Shiro had been more than a little annoyed at the training wheels. It was footage of him, after all. He should be allowed to watch whenever he wanted. Who were Pidge and Hunk (with Matt’s support and testing) to block him from it?

But it had only taken one bad night for Shiro to realize why the locks were a good idea. He’d woken up, shaken and dazed, with the memory of a blade in his hand and blood on the floor. The constant interruptions made him tired, made him frustrated, made him want to just  _ fix this  _ and be done with it.

After all, if Shiro had his answers, at least he wouldn’t wonder if it was a memory or a nightmare. At least he’d know.

Watching those videos in that condition was a terrible idea. In the light of day, Shiro knew that. In the dead of night, it didn’t matter.

So instead, Shiro had worked on quietly undoing Pidge’s locks. He’d had to brush up on skills he hadn’t used outside of a few basic classes at the Garrison, unused for nearly half a decade. He’d had to ask Coran about how the castle’s systems functioned.

Nothing Shiro could work on in the middle of the night. Not when he was too tired to think straight, much less code.

Finally, after weeks of effort, mostly in half an hour bursts, Shiro had broken through.

And he’d realized he had no idea what to do now.

Should he just watch it? Should he lock it back up? The cat was out of that bag - any bad night would drive him to a terminal, now.

But this footage-

Shiro was a killer. Shiro had blood on his hands. He knew that for a fact.

Was he ready to see it for himself? Was he ready to know what the look on his face was when he took lives?

Shiro didn’t know.

So he needed a second opinion.

Thus, why he had to bother Sam. Thus, why he couldn’t wait for a session later in the week.

Thus, why he was here.

Thus, why Shiro was pacing a hole through the floor.

“Do you need something?”

Jumping, Shiro spun, arms up automatically and whole body tense.

In the doorframe, Sam’s brows went up. He was wearing a loose Altean-style shirt and pants but no shoes or glasses. An empty glass was held tightly in his hand.

“Uh-” Shiro dropped the stance and sighed. “Sorry.”

Sam shook his head. “No harm done. I’m sorry to startle you. Did you need something?”

Jaw working, Shiro shifted on his feet. “I- um…”

“That’s sounding like a yes, Takashi.”

Shiro sighed. “It’s a yes. But it can wait while you get a drink.” He snorted. “Actually, you might need a stiff one for this.”

The gray brows rose higher. “Promising. Do you think you need one too?”

Actually, that might not be the worst idea. Then again, Shiro wouldn’t call himself a drinker, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to start. Social drinking had been one thing, and he’d had a glass or two at diplomatic events.

If Shiro started drinking for his problems, he might never stop.

“Maybe,” Shiro replied. “Can we get the bottle, and then… then maybe.”

Sam nodded agreeably. “We’ll get water and something a little more powerful.” He stepped over and put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk on the way, or wait?”

“It’s not really much of a story,” Shiro admitted.

Sam tilted his head, openly curious. “What could be the problem, then?”

Ah, well, here went nothing.

“I want to watch the gladiator footage.”

Eyes wide, Sam took a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go get a drink.”

Yeah, Shiro had thought so.

***

The kitchen was empty, thankfully. Sam walked over to one of the cabinets and rummaged through, then pulled out a bottle and two glasses. He gestured for Shiro to follow him through the door, then settled at their usual dining table. Each glass was filled a couple of inches high, then one was pushed toward Shiro.

Sitting down, Shiro took it and swirled it carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this.”

“Likely not. Coran and I liberated it from the officer’s lounge below recently.” Sam sat as well, holding his glass in both hands and lounging back. “I’ve only had it once, during one of our chats. It’s very sweet.”

Alright, Shiro could work with that. He took a sip, then his face twisted. “Oh. It’s like ice wine.”

Sam cracked a grin. “That’s why I like it. It’s not for everyone, certainly.” He took a sip himself. “You don’t need to feel obligated to drink if you’re not comfortable.”

Shiro shrugged. “I’ll sip. I think that’s alright.” He felt better with permission, oddly.

Or not so oddly. It was the story of his life, this past year.

The silence stretched between them. It would have been comfortable, if not for the looming specter of why Shiro had come to Sam in the first place.

Finally, Sam offered him a smile. “You did well, by the way.”

Shiro paused, then glanced up. “I’m sorry?”

“You came to me,” Sam replied. “I know that’s not easy for you. Thank you, Takashi.”

Heat bloomed over Shiro’s cheeks. “I couldn’t manage to knock,” he pointed out.

But Sam shook his head. “You were at the door. Congratulate yourself for the small steps, too.”

“Alright,” Shiro replied, though he was more tired than proud. “I still don’t-” He sighed and reached into his pocket. Pulling out the drive, he set it in front of Sam. “They’re all in there. Every single one.” All 4 hours, 19 minutes and 47 seconds of it.

Not that Shiro had looked and agonized over the sheer length and volume of the footage or anything.

Sam took the and leaned back in his chair, rolling it between his fingers. “What kind of guidance are you looking for?” He finally asked. “Why bring this to me?”

Shrugging, Shiro stared down at the glass. He swirled it so he could see the light through the liquid, showing the reddish tones. “I don’t know how to tell if I’m ready,” he admitted. “If I should watch it or not.”

Sam’s brows rose again. “What do you think ready looks like?”

Groaning, Shiro put down his glass. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe it looks like someone who can sleep through three nights out of four. Or maybe it looks like someone who doesn’t get flashbacks. Or maybe- I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking!”

Sam held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t think there’s a certain criteria you can meet to watch this. Are you looking for a specific sign to point to that says if you should watch it, yes or no?”

Maybe.

Yes.

Sighing, Shiro scrubbed over his face. “I guess I just know it’s going to hurt. And I don’t know if I can take that or not.”

“Well, you can always try,” Sam pointed out. “If you really think you need to see this, give it a couple of minutes. And if it’s too much, you put it aside for another day. Simple.”

Shiro met Sam’s eyes, his shoulders drooping heavily. “I don’t know that I can let this go, though.”

Pausing, Sam took a long sip of his own drink. “Ah. You think you’ll watch it regardless?” At Shiro’s nod, he started to tap his fingers on the glass. “Well, you can always ask Katie to lock it away again.”

Immediately, Shiro’s chest felt too tight. “No!”

Sam jolting from the shout, nearly sloshing his drink. His eyes were wide and his knuckles tight around the glass.

Shit. “I’m sorry for startling you,” Shiro said, looking away to the table top. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No harm done. I didn’t even lose my drink.” Sam still took a sip like he needed the pause to collect himself. Or maybe Shiro was projecting. “You don’t want it locked again?”

Shiro shook his head. “I don’t want Pidge involved. I don’t want to discuss it with her or any of the others.”

That made Sam pause. “You’re still upset with them?”

Barking out a laugh, Shiro nodded. “Honestly? Yes. I don’t think I’ll ever be totally over it. I forgive them, but-”

The sheer invasion of his privacy still irked Shiro. They knew very well how reserved he was. Both of Pidge and Keith tended to be private as well. And yet they’d watched every moment of his torture, knowing he’d hate them seeing it, and hid it from him for  _ months. _

Shiro wasn’t sure how to get over that. If he knew, he wasn’t sure he’d take it. It was a hurt he’d be nursing for a long time.

He could forgive them. He still loved them. But Shiro did not want them any more a part of the footage than they had to be.  He wasn’t going to invite them to watch it a second time.

Sam nodded slowly. “Alright. I could give it a shot, but I’m not much of a programmer myself. That was always Colleen’s field. Matt isn’t as interested in it as his sister, but he could probably put something together that’d keep you out for a while.”

That was true. But did Shiro want Matt to know either?

“That’s probably the best idea,” he muttered. “I don’t think I’m up for trying tonight, and I don’t want this laying around where I can just watch it anytime. It’s a temptation.”

Nodding, Sam sipped again. “You don’t have to. We can help you. If Matt can’t, I’m certain Coran can. Would you prefer one to the other?”

Shiro considered, his lips twisted. He wasn’t fond of asking either for help, for different reasons. Despite their talk, Shiro wasn’t exactly having heart-to-hearts with Coran on the regular. Matt, on the other hand, already knew so much. It was unlikely, but Shiro couldn’t shake the fear that he’d tease and make jokes instead of help.

It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Shiro would always find a reason not to ask for help.

Which was maybe the point of Sam asking.

“Matt,” he finally answered, sighing. “Matt would be better.”

Sam nodded agreeably. “Alright, we’ll ask Matthew. He’ll be happy to help, and I’m sure he’s still up. He should be able to put something together that’ll at least last the night.”

Good. That was enough for now. Shiro’s shoulders relaxed all at once. Part of his stress had to have been the urgency of it. Funny how he couldn’t tell until it was gone.

“Sounds good,” Shiro replied. “What about the rest. The actual-” he gestured to the drive. “Watching.”

Sipping again, Sam inclined his head. “Depends on if you want to try already. Schedule and universe permitting, we can set up a time tomorrow and give it a shot.”

Pausing, Shiro looked up at him. “We?”

Sam froze. “Well, I assumed-” He put down his glass and regarded Shiro more seriously. “I recomm- no, that’s a lie. I would prefer you have someone there to watch with you.” He held up a hand to forestall Shiro’s objections. “I know you prefer to handle things privately. I respect it. But this isn’t something finite. The footage will play, and if you’re not in a mind to stop it, it’ll continue and make any episode you have worse.”

Dammit. That was reasonable.

But watching  _ with  _ someone made Shiro’s stomach try to craw up out his throat.

“Is this nonnegotiable?” Shiro asked, nearly sullen.

Sam sighed. “This isn’t a negotiation in the first place, Takashi. It’s figuring out the safest way for you to do this. Technically, I can’t stop you for doing anything you want. I’m not going to forbid you. This is your footage, your memories, your healing process. But, dammit, it’d make me feel a hell of a lot better to know you’re not trapping yourself with this.”

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

“You’re offering to be there?” Shiro asked carefully, voice still blank.

Nodding, Sam settled back, gripping his glass hard again. “Yes. I understand if you don’t want me there. But I already know a good deal of what you went through, I’m not in your chain of command anymore, and I have a good read on your mental state. It’s up to you, but-” He sighed. “But nothing. It’s up to you.”

Shiro didn’t want it to be up to him. He wanted to just check off some boxes and have all the healing happen without all this mess and crap between.

That was childish, though. The world didn’t work like that.

“I’ll think about it,” Shiro replied. “Thank you for offering. And for speaking with me.”

“Any time in the universe,” Sam replied. “I’m honored you came to me at all.”

Shiro nodded, scrubbing over his eye with the meat of his palm.

Tapping his glass against the table, like he did with his cane, Sam sighed. “If it’s not me, we should discuss who else. The other paladins are out.”

“Obviously,” Shiro muttered, sullen again. No way in hell he was inviting them to watch it again. Maybe Lance and Hunk hadn’t gone to the same lengths as the other two, but they’d still hidden it, and-

And dammit, Shiro didn’t want them to see. He didn’t want any of them to see.

“Would you be comfortable with Allura and Coran there?” Sam asked.

Shiro made himself consider past the initial shiver of revulsion. “I suppose.  They might understand more than we do from watching. They knew the culture better. So maybe I should-”

Sam made a buzzer noise in the back of his throat, cutting Shiro off completely. “I’m going to stop you right there. This is absolutely not about shoulds or missions or anything. This is only about what you’re comfortable with. If I hear otherwise, I’ll be upset with you.”

Ducking his head, Shiro gave a small smile. “Whoops. Yeah. I was doing that.”

“You were, yes. Drop that now. Are you, personally, comfortable with them watching?”

Shiro shook his head, slow and guilty. “No. It’s nothing personal, not really. I trust they’d be respectful about it. But they’re- They’re…” Words failed him. He held his hand above his head and shrugged.

“Commanding officers?” Sam guessed.

“Yes,” Shiro replied. “Kind of. And Allura is  _ royalty. _ I know it doesn’t usually matter so much in how we act around her, but I try to be respectful. They’d be great otherwise. I just can’t be- I don’t want them to see me like- what if they think…?” He trailed off, covering his face again. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself back down.

After a few moments, Sam sighed. “What do you think worst case scenario is? I- To be clear, I’m not saying you have to accept them watching. I just think this reaction is something to explore.”

Shiro shrugged. “I don’t know. That they’ll- Worst case scenario? That they’ll look at me different. They’ll see, you know, the Champion. Not the Black Paladin.”

“Do you think they can’t see both?”

“I can’t, half the time.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Oh, Takashi. Alright, they don’t have to be there. But I don’t think seeing this would hurt their opinion of you. It didn’t with your team.”

Snorting, Shiro just looked up. “No, it just desensitized them to me being violent. Way better.”

“Takashi.”

Shiro threw up his hands. “I know, I know. Not my fault, not everything is on me, I get it. Still. I’d rather not.”

“Alright.” Sam nodded. “That’s your choice. And that leaves one other person.”

Crinkling his nose, Shiro stared at Sam. “Matt? You want Matt to watch?”

“This isn’t about want,” Sam replied. “It’s an exercise.”

Shiro continued to stare. “Matt, who checks out during training sometimes? Matt who still blames himself?”

Brows rising, Sam stared him down. “Those criteria apply to you as well, you know.”

Oh. True. Crap. Shiro made a face. “Yes, well-” He sighed. “Fine, yes, you’re right. Still. I can’t imagine it’s a good idea.”

“Like I said, it’s an exercise. And let me remind you that it’s not your place to dictate what Matt is ready for emotionally, just as it’s not his to decide for you.”

Dammit. Shiro made a face at him and leaned back in his chair, legs sprawled out in front of him. “I guess. Fine. Sure. Am I comfortable with him there?” He groaned. “I can’t separate them. They’re linked. I’m not comfortable if I’m going to send Matt spiraling by having him there.”

“Assume he’ll be fine,” Sam replied.

“That’s really hard.”

Sam’s expression went flat. “It’s an exercise, Takashi. Work with me here. I’m not making you accept anyone. I’m curious to see you work through who you’d let help you and why.”

Fine, fine. Assuming Matt wouldn’t be hurt by it, then…

Well, he wasn’t in Shiro’s chain of command. And technically he’d hidden the footage, but not after watching it himself, and only for about 24 hours during an already stressful mission. That gave him points.

Matt was likely to joke about it to cope, or to try and help Shiro to cope. That was just what he  _ did. _ Maybe he’d be serious, but Shiro could just imagine him narrating over the footage like it was a wrestling match. Or, more ridiculously, like it was golf.

That should have sounded awful, but Shiro could use some absurdity. The footage was such a serious thing, built so high in Shiro’s head. Taking it down a notch could only help.

“He might be okay,” Shiro allowed, a hint of a sulk to his voice. “If I have to pick someone but you.”

Sam nodded. He reached out a hand and paused, making sure Shiro saw it, then squeezed Shiro’s upper arm. “Thank you for thinking it through.”

Shrugging back, Shiro kept his head ducked.

“We’ll try the first one tomorrow,” Sam repeated. “For now, you should get sorted with Matt. I doubt you’ll sleep tonight if you don’t catch him before he goes to bed.”

Direct hit. Shiro made a face at the table, but nodded. “Alright. Thank you for the talk, Sam.”

“No problem at all.” Sam pushed himself up as well, using the table in place of his cane. Then he held out his arm. “C’mere.”

Shiro’s lips quirked up as he moved into the hug. “I’m not a dog that you have to pat on the head every time I do a good job.”

Nose in the air, Sam did a fine job of pretending to look down his nose at Shiro. The six inch height difference between them made it quite the feat. “Positive reinforcement is a very effective tool, especially for parents.”

Shiro’s cheeks warmed. “Saaam,” he groaned, hiding his face his Sam’s shoulder.

“You’re family,” Sam sing-songed mercilessly, proving once and for all he had indeed sired his children. “You have to deal with our affection.”

Pushing back, Shiro tried and failed to hide his smile. “If I must.”

Sam nodded. “You do. Now you’re free to run away.”

Turning, Shiro started to flee, then paused. “You need help back? You don’t have your cane.”

Brows up, Sam eyed him flatly. “It’s down the hall, Takashi. I can manage. That’s what the walls are for. I do it often.”

Shiro nodded. “Okay. But if you need help-”

“Oh, go on.” Sam shooed him. “Mother hen my biological children into bed, if you need to fuss.”

Snapping off a salute, Shiro smiled and made his escape.

Yeah, sure, Shiro was the only one with a stubborn independent streak. Mhmm. Sure.

***

 

“Well, look what the Black lion dragged in.” Matt pushed his glasses up, using them to pin his bangs to the top of his head. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Shiro rolled his eyes and sat down heavily next to Matt. His current project was in too many pieces to even begin to make sense of it, so Shiro didn’t bother. Instead he sent Pidge a wave, who returned it distractedly.

“Your father sent me to mother hen you instead of him,” Shiro told Matt. He reached out and picked up some casing, turning it over curiously in his hands.

Reaching out, Matt plucked it back out of Shiro’s grip and set it back down. “Oh, do I get a lecture on proper workplace safety? Katie was telling me how you love to give those.”

Oh really?

Shiro’s brows rose as he rested his forearms on the worktable. “Was she now?”

Over at her own table, Pidge froze guiltily. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t literally true,” she shot back, but her face didn’t match her confident tone.

“And did your sister tell you about what happened when she didn’t listen to me?”

Pidge put town her wrench and groaned. “Shiro, c’mon, don’t.”

He eyed her, lips curled into a smirk. “You threw me under the bus first. But if you give us ten minutes and don’t listen in, I won’t tell him about the time with the cord and the lions.”

The offer made Pidge pause, curious. “Why?”

“Because I’m nice and giving you an out.”

“That’s not-” Pidge cut herself off, lips pressing thin. She eyed him, considering. “Just ten minutes?”

Shiro nodded. “Just ten. Though you should be winding down anyway.” That earned him twin snorts, and Shiro sighed. Yeah, it was hypocritical, fine. Didn’t make it less true. “And I’ll know if you listen.”

The curious look only got deeper, but Pidge nodded. “Alright. I’ll know if you tell anyway.”

“Fair.”

Pidge gathered up a pad and a few pieces. With a last look back, he paused at the door. “Do I get to know later?”

Brows up, Shiro considered. “I’m sure it’ll come up eventually. But yes, we’ll talk later.”

That seemed to be enough. With a last bob of her head, Pidge slipped out.

She really better not be listening in. Now that Shiro knew what he was looking for, the other paladin’s guilty faces were all too obvious. Bringing up their part in that entire Maros fiasco was a surefire way of bringing those expressions out.

“Well, I’m curious,” Matt announced. “You’re really not going to tell me a juicy story? You got me all worked up. I’m excited.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, shoulders relaxing. “It’s really not that good. She just hates when I’m right about nagging. Anyway, there’s something more important to talk about.” He paused, the words catching uncomfortably in his chest.

Asking for help was the worst.

Still waiting, Matt crossed his arms and leaned back against the table. He didn’t push, but his curious, expectant expression didn’t change.

“I got through the locks,” Shiro finally admitted. “On the videos.”

The smile fell off Matt’s face. “Oh.” He glanced back at the door. “That’s why you banished the gremlin?”

Shiro nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Matt drawled the word out. “Yeah, alright, that’s fair. So, what do you need me for, then? Or was this a brag session? Because I’m so down for a brag session. I can brag like you wouldn’t believe.”

The easy opening was no doubt for Shiro’s benefit, but it drew a smile out of him anyway. “Really? I never noticed.”

Matt nodded. “It’s ‘cause I’m so stoic and humble.” He flashed Shiro a grin, but it faded quickly. “Seriously, what’s up?”

Shiro’s amusement melted away too. “I- There’s no way I can do anything with it tonight. But I can’t sleep if it’s just out there and I can watch it. Or, worse, if I wake up and there’s nothing stopping me from just watching.”

Eyes wide, Matt nodded slowly. “Ah. You want me to put a baby gate on the files?”

“In the most insulting way of putting it, yes.”

Matt flashed another smile. “Yeah. I can do that for you. Just enough to keep you out when you’re sleepy, right? Or do you want me to lock it down again?”

“Just that much,” Shiro replied. He hesitated, then sighed. “Tell Sam how to get through the locks. He’s going to be watching with me.”

Matt’s brows jumped to his hairline. “You’re okay with that?”

“He basically put his foot down. As much as he could, anyway.” Which was a little annoying, but was mostly nice. Shiro liked having someone looking out for him like Sam did. It could be overbearing, but most days it was just comforting. He cared.

Resting his chin on his palm, Matt let out a slow breath. “Well, good. You shouldn’t watch this stuff alone, I think.” He drummed his spidery fingers against the line of his jaw. “Just Dad?”

There it was.

Shiro took a deep breath, watching Matt warily. “I assume you’re offering.”

“Yup.”

“That a good idea?”

At first, Matt’s expression stormed over. But he took a deep breath and it cleared, if reluctantly. “Maybe? I can always step out of it’s not. I just-” He shrugged. “I know you went through a lot. And I know a lot of it is for me.” He held up a hand to stop Shiro’s protest. “Not because of me, I get it. For me. You can’t argue that, Shiro. You took my place.”

“Or you would have been killed and I’d have been fighting in your blood puddle,” Shiro snapped back.

Matt reeled back, eyes wide. “Christ on a cracker, Shiro.”

Wincing, Shiro looked away. “It’s the truth. It’s not like we don’t know what went on in those arenas. Even if they hosed them off between.”

“Still.” Matt scrubbed over his face. “Gross. Alright. Regardless. I think about what might have happened, or what you went through. Mind, I try not to. There’s so many more interesting things to think about then the arena. But I do anyway, and nothing you are I do will change that. So I might as well be working off the truth.”

Shiro could respect that. It was the reason he was doing this too.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro stared up at the blue-tinted lights of the ceiling. “I- I get that. But it’s like… you told me what you said. When I was locked in the Black Lion. About everyone else getting trapped too, and how that’d just make everything worse? Same thing.”

Matt opened his mouth, then closed it with a click. “I can walk from this. They couldn’t.”

True, but not Shiro’s point. He’d feel bad for setting Matt off when he didn’t need to. They both had plenty of that already. So Shiro just continued to stare, brows up.

“Fine. I get what you’re saying, whatever. But, man, flashbacks happen. Episodes happen. I’d rather give it a shot. It’s not on you what happens.”

Shiro just kept his gaze steady. “It’ll feel like it will, especially when I’ve been watching footage of me slaughtering fellow prisoners.”

Going green again, Matt groaned. “Stop with the shock value bullshit, Shirogane.”

“If you can’t take my words, what makes you think you can take the footage?”

Matt’s nails dug into the table top. “Ugh. You- shit.” He took several deep, gulping breaths. “Look. I’d like to be there. I’d like to know. But, shit, that’s the same crap that got Katie in trouble with you. I’d prefer you not nurse a private grudge against me forever.”

Finally, Shiro’s lips curled up at the corners. “What makes you think I already don’t?”

For a moment, Matt looked stricken. Then he registered the easy tone and Shiro’s small smirk. “Oh yeah? What of?”

“I recall someone clipping me to the ceiling of the  _ Daedalus _ while I slept _.” _

“I recall someone calling my dad a silver fox to mess with me. That’s way more scarring.  I still have nightmares”

Shiro snorted.  Then his shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to hurt you, Matt.”

Expression softening, Matt sighed. “You won’t hurt me. I’ll hurt me. And I’m allowed to do that in healthy, small bites.” He looked over Shiro’s face. “Is this one of your ‘I don’t want you there so I’m pretending it’s for you’ things?”

Shiro actually paused to consider. “No, not today. I don’t think so.”

Nodding, Matt leaned back again. “Can we try one? Just the first match, with you and dad.”

Dammit.

“Yeah, alright,” Shiro allowed. “Don’t make me regret this, Matt. I’m begging you.”

“Never.” Matt knocked their shoulders together. “Thank you. I know this is personal.”

Shiro sighed. “It’s not like you don’t already have an idea. You lived with the Galra too.”

It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough. Matt and Sam and seen more than Shiro would have ever wanted for them.

This wasn’t a breaking point.

Or, so Shiro hoped.

***

_ The arm pierced through. _

_ Above him, the centipede creature writhed and shrieked, a terrible, ear-piercing noise. It made Shiro’s ears feel like they should be bleeding as much as his face was. _

_ He pulled his arm free with yank. Something inside the creature gave with a sickening crack, making the pitch of its scream go even higher. _

_ “Fight over.” _

_ His call made the crowd’s cheers turn to furious hisses. _

_ Shiro stared back, expression flat. He knew the consequences. He choose to try anyway. _

_ What was more pain? _

_ But rather than the doors opening to allow in guards, his hand started to glow. _

_ Part of Shiro knew what would happen. Part of him always knew, but he hoped this time the memory would be different. This time he could walk away and take his punishment. _

_ This time, he was right.  It was different.  _

_ This time, the arm activated and burned brightly, casting Shiro and monster in pale purple. But instead of sinking into the dying centipede, the palm pressed against his own stomach. _

_ Shiro had just enough time to feel horrified before his mental arm sank into his own flesh. He screamed- _

He screamed.

Shiro kicked of his sheets, breathing in ragged gulps as he tried to readjust to the castle rather than the memory.

Just a dream. Just a twisted, awful dream.

Pushing his bangs off of his face, Shiro’s lips pressed thin. They were plastered in place from sweat. All of him was covered in a thin, sticky layer, adding a real chill to his shivers.

At least it hadn’t been the vine child. Or Haggar.

Which was a really awful ‘at least’.

Falling back on his bed, Shiro blinked up at the ceiling, forcing his thoughts to focus rather than drift back onto his dream.

Nightmares tonight weren’t a surprise. They weren’t most nights, but this one in particular. He’d been thinking about the footage for hours before he managed to drift off.  It would have been a shock if Shiro had managed to sleep long.

At least he wasn’t tempted to go looking for those videos, despite his fears. In fact, Shiro was dreading the morning.

Sam and Matt were going to watch that moment from the dream. The real version, where he’d cut that stupid bug’s head open.

Groaning, Shiro grabbed his pillow and pressed it over his face, stretching out his full length on the bed.

It sucked. It  _ sucked.  _ Shiro got why they wanted to be there, or wanted to know. He got why he shouldn’t be alone for it. He got that they wanted to help.

Shiro didn’t want the footage to exist in the first place. His torture had been recorded and sold. His pain had been broadcast and paid for.

What was Shiro even supposed to do with that knowledge? What options were there but to ignore it, or to stew and hate forever?

That wasn’t even thinking about the patrons…

Grabbing onto the pillow, Shiro threw it hard at the far wall. It bounced off with a soft, unsatisfying noise, then plopped onto his desk in a heap.

More than once, when Shiro was in a mood as a kid, he’d been instructed to hit a pillow. He’d dutifully tried it out, but the actions had never been satisfying. It left his arms and fists aching for something more solid, something that would have a reaction. The pillow was indifferent to Shiro’s temper.  It made him feel powerless, not satisfied.

Now, Shiro felt the same frustration. His raging and anger had nowhere to go. He could spit and curse and hate all he wanted, but the universe would continue to buy and sell the images of his nightmares. They were indifferent, no matter how hard he raged.

Some days - some nights - it was hard to want to save a universe like that.

It wasn’t everyone. Shiro knew that. It was a certain brand of person, mostly within the Galra empire or the upper classes. People who benefited from the bloodsports and ruthless destruction of the universe. Every victory in Voltron was a strike against those beings and their comfortable lives.

But they were still out there. Sometimes, beings like that were Voltron’s allies.

Maros proved that.

Shiro needed-

He needed out of this room before he worked himself up even more.

Groaning, Shiro pushed himself out of bed. Stepping over to the door, he paused to pick up the pillow, considering it. It remained limp and docile in his metal hand.

With a flash, the arm activated.

The pillow burned. The fabric blackened and curled back. Inside, the fluff caught and smoked, melting into a strange, plastic-y slag.

Eventually, the fabric in Shiro’s grip completely gave way. The whole thing fell to the ground, smoldering and pathetic.

Well, it wasn’t indifferent anymore. Shiro had made an impact.

It was just a violent one.

And now he didn’t have a pillow, either.

“What was that supposed to accomplish?” Shiro asked the empty room.

His bedroom didn’t have answers, and neither did Shiro.

Shaking his head, Shiro tapped open the door and started to walk down the hall. He was still barefoot from bed, each step slapping gently in the otherwise silent hall. At this hour, everyone was - or should have been - asleep, meaning he had the place to himself.

His feet took him in one specific direction.

Soon, Shiro found himself staring up at the Black Lion, their eyes off in sleep mode.

“Sorry to wake you,” he called, voice barely more than a whisper. The lion couldn’t have physically heard him, but that was unnecessary. Besides, those ears weren’t functional anyway.

The lights flashed on instantly, and the lion’s head ducked down for him to enter.

If nothing else, Shiro still had this.

“Thanks,” he murmured, a smile pulling up his lips. The inside of the lion was dimmer than usual, only barely enough light for Shiro to see by as he walked up to the pilot’s seat.

When he sat down, the monitors came up at their usual brightness, but there was nothing but the camera view on them. No controls for the hangar, no local star maps, no information on the other lions.

So, no joy rides tonight. That was fair. It wasn’t what Shiro wanted anyway.

“I don’t know what I want to hear from you,” he admitted. “I just didn’t want to be in my room anymore.”

The monitors flickered, then dimmed, showing only the Voltron symbol on each. Instead there was a warm presence around him, like a huge cat winding around his sides. Instinctively, Shiro reached out. His fingers only curled around air, but there was an answering purr in his mind.

Good enough, it seemed.

Dropping his hand back into his lap, Shiro closed his eyes and leaned back. “If I asked, could you show me how big the universe is? The visible universe, at least.”

There was a hint of a pause. Then another press, this one apologetic. The Black Lion could not.

“Because you don’t know, or because I can’t perceive that?”

This time, there was a shove toward his back, almost sulky. Of  _ course _ the lions could calculate and understand the visible universe. They were vast and powerful and old. They weren’t organic and small and young.  _ Obviously. _

“Fair enough.” Shiro’s smile grew. “Question retracted.” He considered for a long time. “Do you know what will help?”

There was another pause, longer this time. Then, behind his closed lids, Shiro saw images. Footage of himself and of Pidge from away and high up - the Black Lion’s perspective. His face was screwed shut and red as he cried into Pidge’s hair, crashing to his knees and dragging her to the floor with him.

His breakdown after Maros.

Immediately, he tried to pull back, but the lion gently tugged him back, then let go. There was a point to this. He should stay.

Reluctantly, Shiro did.

The other paladins caught up in moments, clustering around Shiro and Pidge. Their faces were pure relief and worry, tears in their eyes or streaming down their cheeks.

Shiro shifted in his chair, both warmed and a little embarrassed of the display. They’d all been a mess that day, and a lot of that was on him.

The image shifted to the lions flying in formation. Shiro was vaguely aware it was them inside, but this was from the lion’s perspective as well. The focus wasn’t on the paladins, not at this exact moment. It was on each other.

Ahead of them, a Galra fleet prepared for their attack. But the lions were ready to fight - and more importantly, to keep each other and their paladins safe.

…Shiro appreciated that, but he still didn’t understand.

There was a burst of air in the cockpit, as the air conditioning turned up high. A sigh.

Then, Shiro saw galaxies. Simple glimmering shapes, swirls and spirals. Almost cartoonish.

It zoomed in, smaller and smaller, faster and faster, until it was just Shiro, and those around him.

_ You are small. You do not know the universe. You do not fight for them. You fight for those close to you. _

Oh.

That was-

It was small, like the lion said.

But it helped anyway. Shiro didn’t  _ have _ to do this out of altruism for a cold, uncaring, cruel universe. He could continue to fight and work because it was the best for the people he loved.

Shiro could work with that.

Around him, the air of the cockpit warmed as the lion changed the settles again. Then the chair leaned back, reclining Shiro until he was nearly flat. All the lights dimmed to bare glimmers, but didn’t go out completely. They reminded Shiro of nightlights.

That was probably why the lion had done it.

Shiro felt the winding again, a gentle rumble.

_ You do not need to fix the universe tonight. You need only take on what you can take. Tomorrow will ask more of you, but now you will sleep. _

Will. Not should. The Black Lion wasn’t suggesting.

Shiro’s lips curled up. “You’re bossy.”

_ I am your boss. _

Fair enough.

Eyes falling closed, Shiro obeyed his orders.

For the rest of the night, his dreams were from the lion’s eyes. He saw worlds, stars, gas clouds, creatures, all huge and grand.

When Shiro woke, his lips ached from smiling in his sleep.


End file.
